Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 117363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Jeremy stood as well, but he headed for the study to consider the work Jean had abandoned. Going back to this with tonight’s conversation ricocheting around his skull felt exceedingly unfair, but he checked Cat’s drawer for a pen before collecting one of Jean’s scattered notebooks. This time he didn’t open it but set it face-down on the carpet so he could use the flimsy cardboard backing as scratch paper. Bit by bit he worked his way down the list, skimming lists of tedious class titles and comparing what their teammates had to what Jean needed to take.
Like Jeremy had hoped, Shane overlapped with Jean in two classes, and Cody was enrolled in one Jean could take as an alternate. That left one unaccounted for, and it sounded dreadfully boring, but Jeremy wrote the class number and time on his hand so he could contact the professor for permission to audit it. He’d just set the pen aside when Jean appeared in the doorway.
Jeremy greeted him with a bright smile he didn’t feel and patted the ground beside him. “I think we’ve got something here.”
Jean sat and listened as Jeremy walked him through the arrangement. Jean would end up with five classes this semester, one more than the athletes’ recommended four, but since one of those would be the ceramics class, Jeremy figured it wouldn’t add anything tremendously stressful to Jean’s workload.
“Thank you,” Jean said.
“What else are friends for?” Jeremy said, as a little of the chill in his veins thawed. “Here, if you can get your laptop down, I’ll show you how to navigate the portal.”
Jean stretched for it and set it down where they both could see. The link for the site he needed was printed in the front of his catalogue, and Jean had an email with his login information. Getting classes added to his schedule was easy work, and he’d just locked in the last one when Cat arrived. She crossed the room and leaned over, catching Jean’s head in her hands so she could plant a kiss to the top of his head.
“Dinner’s ready,” she said. “Let’s stuff our faces and watch something loud so none of us have to think again tonight. Sound good?”
Dinner was easy to put together, and sorting out a movie only took a little longer. Jeremy had seen it a half-dozen times before, and he liked it, but it was hard to focus on the movie when Jean was two cushions down. It took Jean half the movie to stop pushing his food around his plate, and Jeremy wondered if he ought to go with Jean when he finished and inevitably ducked out. But he waited and waited, and still Jean didn’t get up.
Jeremy sneaked a glance over at him. Jean seemed to be looking toward the bay window more than the TV, but his plate was empty, and he was still there. It was the first time in six weeks he hadn’t abandoned them the moment he could, and Jeremy quickly returned his attention to the movie before Jean realized he was being watched.
Maybe Jean needed the company to distract him from his thoughts, or maybe this was his thanks to them for agreeing not to pry further. Jeremy wasn’t sure, but it still felt like a much-needed victory when everything else was unraveling around them.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jean
Derek had just hit the ground when one of the coaches pounded on the wall in warning. Jean assumed it was Coach White again, furious over how often Jean was tripping up his strikers. The outrage was a waste of everyone’s time, Jean knew. Their opponents this fall would not play a clean game; it was not his fault that the Trojans were so unprepared for underhandedness during intrateam scrimmages. He huffed a little in aggravation as he stepped away from Derek. Across the court, Derrick caught the ball and held it to stop play, and Jean belatedly realized it wasn’t White trying to enter the court.
Rhemann shooed Jesus on ahead of him and put an arm up. “Moreau, with me.”
“Thank God,” Derek said as he got to his feet.
“Coward,” Jean shot back as he started for the door.
Rhemann closed it as soon as Jean was in the inner court, and Jean fixed his eyes on the team bench as he awaited a dressing down. The subs and other coaches were close enough to hear every word Rhemann said, but shame was a critical part of the correction process. Instead of ranting, though, Rhemann set off. It took Jean a moment to decide he was meant to follow, and his shoulders tightened as he realized they were heading back to the locker room. Privacy for a lecture meant more than words were needed to get the message across.
Rhemann brought him all the way to the defense line’s huddle room, where the TV was already turned on and set to a news station. Rhemann took a chair near the front and turned his full attention on the screen. Jean looked from him to the TV and back again in confusion, but he had not been asked to speak so he said nothing.